Dog Tags
by Home By Another Way
Summary: They were dogs of the military, so it made sense that eventually they'd have to wear the stupid things, but Roy really, really doesn't want to. "It'll ruin my image." *click* "Put it on, Colonel."


**Well, this came to me for some reason late last night. I don't even remember what inspired it, but I thought it was worth posting. It was originally going to be a Royai fic, but I couldn't figure out how to tie in the romance very well. If you have any suggestions, please contact me!**

**WARNING: I gave it a K+ rating, but there is a little swearing.**

**Disclaimer: Well, since I am not the proud owner of about a bajillion dollars, what makes you think I could possibly own something as awesome as Fullmetal Alchemist? Now that we're all on the same page . . . **

**ENJOY!**

**DOG TAGES**

There were many things Roy Mustang wanted to do when he became Fuhrer. De-corrupt the military was one of them. Make mini-skirts a required part of the female officers' uniforms was another. But even more than that, and right away: as his first order of business, Roy would revoke the law ordering all military officers to wear those infernal metal necklaces known as dog tags.

This decision was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but in Roy's mind it was perfectly justified and a wise course of action. He had made up his mind based on the order that had just come down from the top, in the form of a letter from Fuhrer Bradley himself.

_To all military staff and soldiers,_

_In order to keep track of and easier identify your remains, should you die, all military personnel are required to wear the set of dog tags that will be delivered to them at all times. This order is absolute and any resistance _**(A/N read: Mustang)**_ will be dealt with accordingly. Thank you all and have a good day._

_Signed,_

_Fuhrer King Bradley_

As soon as he had finished reading the note aloud, Roy dropped the paper onto his desk as though it had burned him and plopped down in his chair. His office staff immediately called a coffee break and started chattering excitedly. Fuery – on a dare from the others – worked up the nerve to ask the Colonel's opinion about the new fashion statement the Fuhrer had orchestrated. He bounced up to Mustang's desk and did his best not to be disturbed by the extremely murderous aura that had surrounded his commanding officer.

"Isn't this exciting, sir?" Fuery asked cheerfully. Mustang slowly raised his head to look at him, and poor Fuery barley stopped himself from running away screaming due to the Colonel's smoldering glare.

"Exciting?" Mustang repeated, as though he could not quite believe what he had heard. A scary smile stretched across his face, giving him a half-crazed look. "What are you talking about, Sergeant Major Fuery? This isn't exciting at all. This is terrible, how dare you –"

Fuery was saved from being burnt to a crisp by the fortunate arrival of the errand boy, who quickly handed each officer in the room a little metal box before scurrying off. In moments, everyone had their box open and was admiring their new dog tags. Everyone that is, except for the Colonel himself.

Instead of ooh-ing and ahh-ing over his new accessory like everyone else, Mustang was staring at the still-closed box warily, as though something might spring from it and kill him at any moment. As stealthily as possible, Roy grabbed the thing and dropped it into his desk drawer.

He had just closed the drawer and sat back with a satisfied smirk when he became aware of a presence a few feet away. Slowly, like a deer caught in the headlights, the Colonel peeked over his shoulder and found himself looking into the stern red-brown eyes of his beautiful Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.

He winced and thought, _Ah, shit,_ before he smoothed over his expression and attempted to look as innocent as possible. Of course, Riza saw right through him and stared back, unimpressed. Roy tried to distract her and salvage the situation.

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, "If I may ask sir, what did you just put in your desk?"

"Oh nothing, just a deck of cards," Roy said quickly.

Riza raised her eyes brows, "Is that so? Very well, may I ask where your dog tags are, sir?"

"You may not, Lieutenant." _Damn_, he thought, _she's on to me_.

"Understood," she saluted and walked behind his chair to stop on his right side, not two inches away from the drawer where his dog tags were hidden away. _What's she up to?_ he wondered. Only then did Mustang notice the sheaf of papers Riza was carrying.

_Oh, great, more of that damned paperwork_, he thought despondently. Roy was so busy wallowing in his own self-pity that he failed to notice the Lieutenant had opened _the drawer_ before it was too late.

The next thing Roy knew, the blasted box was back on his desk and Riza was giving him the evil eye.

"Would these happen to be your dog tags, sir? They somehow ended up in this drawer. Perhaps you should put them on before they get lost," Lieutenant Hawkeye suggested, a threat obvious in her words despite her polite tone.

"No," the Colonel shook his head stubbornly. "It'll ruin my image."

A click sounded to Mustang's right as Riza switched off the safety on her gun and pointed it at his head. He began to sweat profusely.

"Put it on, Colonel," she ordered in a voice like steel.

"No."

The gun was pressed to his temple now, the cold metal making Mustang acutely aware of just how close he was to death.

"Please, sir."

Roy thought fast. Was it really worth dying over such a silly little thing? Surely even he could bear to wear such a horrid necklace, at least until he was away from prying eyes, and more importantly –the Lieutenant's pistol? It was with this reasoning that Roy swallowed his pride and slowly reached out and opened the little metal box.

Inside were two small, rectangular pieces of metal stamped with his name, rank, State Alchemist title, and serial number as a soldier of the Amestrain military. These pieces of metal were attached to a small chain that was large enough to successfully squeeze past his head, were he to try and put the necklace on.

Mustang cast one last pleading glance at his Lieutenant, who just stared at him expectantly. With a sigh, the Colonel slowly secured the dog tags to his neck and did his best to hide them beneath his uniform.

"How's that?" Roy asked her, unhappy that he had been found out and forced to wear the stupid tags at gunpoint.

"Very good, sir. Thank you," Riza replied smartly. She dropped the paperwork she was holding onto the already large mountain of it in front of Mustang and headed toward the door, no doubt off to find more work for him.

Ignoring the stares of his staff due to him and Riza's little confrontation; Roy spun his chair to face the window and slouched down in it, pouting.

Stupid dog tags.

**See, even Mustang knows when he's beat! Poor guy, having to put up with wearing those dog tags, lest he die a horribly bloody death at the hands of his Lieutenant. A right shame it is . . . **

**Anyway, what did ya think? Did the story live up to its genre? I have to admit I'm not quite certain myself.**

**Ciaossu~!**


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